


Fake It Like You Love Me

by Kuro (DarkestQuasar)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Bad Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, One-Sided Relationship, One-sided Keith/Shiro - Freeform, One-sided Lance/Allura, Space Condoms, background shiro/allura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestQuasar/pseuds/Kuro
Summary: Life is just a compilation of good ideas and bad ideas.Good idea: Having sex with the person you love.Bad idea: Having sex with your self-proclaimed rival while you both shout your respective crushes' names.





	

“It’s a stupid idea,” Keith says and crosses his arms in front of his chest, defensively and determined at the same time, unsure if he wants to have a confrontation or not. Actually, he does. He thinks. Actually, he totally does. It’s easy to argue with Lance, easier than to talk to him, with him. “It’s a very stupid idea. As expected of your ideas,” he says again and feels proud at the insult.

Lance raises his brows and shrugs his shoulders, arms hanging loosely at his sides, an open gesture, almost inviting, comforting. He only manages to reach the opposite of being comforting, but he can’t know that. Lastly, he raises his right hand and brings it to his chin, stroking it (in deep thoughts? In arrogance? there are many possibilities, one of them are nice. Keith finds him hard to assess, as always, can’t see what’s real about him and what is just a facade, put up to annoy the shit out of Keith). Finally, he says: “Still, you’re here.”

Yes. Yes, he is. And he doesn’t really know why. Maybe to tell Lance that he is an idiot and this is an amazingly dumb idea. Maybe to tell him to fuck off. Maybe. Most likely, those are not the reasons. He could have done that sooner, could have told him earlier, outside or in the common room when Lance voiced this stupid, awful and ridiculous idea for the first time. “Maybe I’m just stupid, too.”

Lance actually laughs at that. It sounds a little nervous. “Yeah, well, no shit. you’re a giant idiot. But, the thing is-” Another helpless shrug. A sheepish little smile. “You’re desperate and in love. Just like I am.”

-

(”It’s unfair,” Lance says, quietly but still loud enough for Keith to hear, some kind of mock whisper.

Keith slowly turnes his head into his direction, noticing that Lance doesn’t even look at him and furrowing his brows in confusion. So he cranes his neck a little further, leans forward on the sofa to find out what Lance is looking at, to see what’s going on.

He regrets it immediately.

The first thing he notices is his hand; the human one. He watches it sneak around her waist, watches his fingers brush over the fabric of her dress, just above her hip. his eyes travel higher, across the small curve of Shiro’s ass and spine, fixating on his broad shoulders for one or two longs moments before finally settling on his face, on the crooked, content smile on his lips and the love in his eyes.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, _unfair is right_. But he could never admit that to Lance. Instead, he gives a shrug and crosses his legs.

“It’s unfair,” Lance repeats once more, this time more fiercely, louder, his arms crossed in front of him “, how happy they are. I mean, it’s not unfair they’re happy. They deserve being happy. But they’re happy with each other, not with us. And that’s just-”

“-unfair,” Keith interrupts. “I got you the first time already.” It takes him a second until he realizes what Lance has just said, what he has implied to know. He startles. “Wait - what do you mean … us?”

“Really?” A look of surprise crosses Lance’s features just before the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly in an almost creepy grin. He leans forward, his eyes narrow, sparking with the kind of mischief Keith knows to stay away from (which means _he_ does shuffle backwards a bit, lest Lance can creep up on him further). “Oh wow. Really? You really think you’re subtle?”

Keith stiffens, his fingers twitch, and if he didn’t know better, if he didn’t know that would make everything worse, he would throw the pack of bottled space water into Lance’s face - with a lot of luck that would temporarily stun him or knock him out long enough for Keith to flee the room and pretend the topic was never brought up. And/or it might make him achieve some kind of spontaneus amnesia, so he’d forget (very, very quickly) about everything.

He stays like this for a few seconds, hands on his knees, back slumped forwards. Only then does Lance lean back and cross his arms behind his head. “Look, dude, the top three on the list of obvious things are, in no specific order: Zarkon is a giant dick, Allura is the most beautiful woman in the universe, and _you_ , my friend, have the hots for Shiro.”

He thinks of denying it, of calling bullshit on it, of … whatever. It’s already too late for any of that, and as Keith realizes that if _Lance_ knows, then the whole damn castle knows (for if there’s one thing Lance is worse at than at keeping his mouth shut, it’s Lance keeping his mouth shut on things that will directly harm and/or make a mockery out of Keith), he balls his hands into fists and grits his teeth. “Yeah, you think that’s funny, don’t you? well, look in the goddamn mirror, then you can see another pining loser!”

“At least my love for Allura isn’t as awkward as you wanting to bang your best friend.”

“At least I have friends!”

Lance holds up a hand. “That’s uncalled for, don’t erase Hunk!”

Keith blinks slowly, a little taken aback, some of the fight leaving him at the sudden change of topic. “Uh, true, Hunk is a good friend,” he says, and then, softer: “Still. At least Shiro and I are friends. It’s less awkward to have a crush on a friend than having a hard-on for a ten thousand year-old princess of an alien race.”

“Technically, she’s only a few hundred years old. But yes, my hard-on for her is raging. All the time.”

“Dude, that’s far too much information.”

But Lance has only just begun: “Like, seriously, do you have any idea how sad it is when you jerk off and pretend someone else is doing the jerking?”

Slowly, Keith opens his mouth, but he decides against the first five answers he’d want to give to that question, only to roll his eyes instead and exhaustedly slump against the sofa cushions. “I thought we’d just established the whole ‘crushing on Shiro’-thing?” He pauses and frowns. “I can’t believe I’m even saying it, but I can totally relate to you.”

And now the topic is over. For him at least, for as he leans back and takes a sip from the space water while thoughtfully looking at the ceiling, he can feel Lance’s eyes on him. He frowns a little and narrows his eyes, keeping his gaze stubbornly to the ceiling. No, he will not share any anecdotes with him about how pathetic they both are; he will-

Lance creeps closer.

-not talk about his wanking habits and share tips and exchange methods with him; he will-

Lance creeps closer again.

-not lower himself to the level of telling sob stories and listen to Lance whining about having to keep it in his pants. And he will-

Lance is so close to him that Keith can see his dumb grin out of the corners of his eyes. Keith sighs. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. “ _What?_ ” he asks in the small hopes that Lance will just state his mind and get lost.

“So I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s never a good way to start a sentence.”

“What if,” Lance goes on, ignoring his remark “, there’s someone else doing the jerking for you? Like, some mutual mano-a-mano action?”

It takes him a few seconds to understand, because surely Lance can’t mean what he thinks Lance means, because it sounds like some kind of strange joke, the Lance kind of a joke. Then it takes a little longer until he gets that Lance isn’t just proposing for them to search someone to get intimate with, but that he’s talking about the both of _them_. Doing things to each other. Uspeakable things. Not just to each other, but with each other.

That is when Keith gets up abruptly, dumps the remaining contents of the water package on Lance’s head, and flees the room.)

-

And now he’s here. At night. In Lance’s room. An armlength away from Lance’s bed. Because he’s desperate and in love and a horny nineteen-year-old with no chance of getting laid on this mess of a space ship in the middle of this mess of a space war. Because he is _just like Lance_ in this situation and he hates it.

“It’s pathetic,” he mutters, a tired sound escaping his lips as he shakes his head- ever so slowly, never looking away from Lance, who looks about as tired as Keith feels.

“That’s love, that’s life.” Lance brushes some imaginary particles of dust off his pants and straightens, his shoulders stiff. “So - you’re here.”

“As we’ve already established.”

“That means you’re ready and willing?” A small, almost hopeful grin spreads on his lips.

“No!” Keith exclaims quickly. “It means I’m willing to listen what you have to say. That’s it! Nothing more!” There is silence between them, uneasy and thick enough to be cut with a knife, and with another tired sigh Keith says: “Maybe I am pathetic enough to,” he clears his throat “, let myself be talked into being willing to engage in a little, uh, hand-to-hand combat with you.”

“Yeah, about that … ”

Whatever he has to say, Keith already knows it’s not good.

Lance actually has the decency to look a bit sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck and averts his eyes for a moment, looking at the bed and then back to Keith. “I … might have scrapped that idea.” At Keith’s raised brows, he continues: “Of the, you know, hand-to-hand thing at least. I’ve been thinking of something a little more thorough.”

“Do I even want to know?” Keith inquires with the growing suspicion that no, nope, he doesn’t. Not at all. He watches Lance fumble with the pillow, eyes resting on the bottle he snags from somewhere between the mattress and the wall. A bottle he catches with easy when Lance throws it into his direction. His hand closes around it and he eyes it from all angles, trying - in vain - to decipher the strange letters printed onto the label. The content of this bottle is obvious to him (it’s already half-empty. Keith shudders at the thought of what the clear liquid inside has already been used for), even if he can’t read the description. “Where the hell did you get lube from?”

Lance shrugs. “Space Mall.”

“You got space lube from the space mall,” Keith repeats bewilderedly, thinking of how _he_ has been trying to make out some aspects of his past, of who he is and can be - and Lance has been thinking about nothing but sex. And about getting Pidge a gaming device. But that’s an aside, that can be ignored. “Did you get space condoms with that, too?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Lance practically beams at him.

“Sure! Good ol’ Lance is always prepared for anything. Which is why I’m the team’s best strategist.” He actually gives himself a thumbs-up here and flashes Keith a toothy grin.

“'cept for one thing.” Keith tosses the bottle onto the bed. “I’m not gonna bend you over and screw you.” Mutual masturbation is _one_ thing, but _this_ , this is … something else. Something he wanted to keep for Shiro. Something he might not even be ready to do with Shiro, however, and is by far not ready to do with Lance of all people.

Instead of being offended or disappointed, Lance only nods and smiles more broadly. “I was hoping you’d say that, mullet man, because that’s jsut according to my plan. _You_ are gonna be the one with his ass in the air.”

“ _What_? No way!” Keith feels his cheeks flush crimson (hot and ashamed and enraged at this outrageous idea). “I- I see we’re back at stupid ideas, right?”

“Oh, c'mon, don’t be a coward now!”

“I’m not! But why shoud _I_ spread my legs for _you_ , anyway? Why not the other way around?”

“Because,” Lance begins slowly, as if talking to a very small, very dumb child (or to an complete idiot, which Keith guesses Lance believes him to be) “, you can’t tell me that when you’re jerking it to Shiro, you think of _you_ topping him. Because I really can’t imagine that. You fucking shiro, I mean. Though I couldn’t imagine myself fucking Shiro either, you know? Shiro’s kinda unfuckable. I think.”

“Can-can we stop talking about Shiro’s fuckability?”

“Okay, sure. How about we talk about me and Allura? _You_ can’t be inside _me_ because Allura doesnt have a dick.”

“How would _you_ know?” Keith asks, voice a little higher than usual. This is an awkward conversation. One that shouldn’t exist at all. Absolutely not. But hey, Keith is not one to back down, and he is not one to get frightened by Lance, either. If they’re gonna do this - which is still undecided, right now, and still a bad idea -, then they’re gonna do it with Keith struggling and biting all the way; at least verbally. “She’s Altean.”

“So what? Stop attacking my fantasies!”

“I bet she has one,” Keith repeats with a small pout on his lips, just to rife him up. “And I bet it’s bigger than yours.”

“Good for Shiro, then, right? If she has one, then at least one of us gets to do him up the ass,” Lance deadpans and, with a small, almost inaudible sounds, sinks onto the bed, crossing his legs in anticipation. “So - you gonna chicken out or take it like a man and get the best orgasm of your life?”

Again with the over-confidence. Keith scoffs and shakes his head. Then he looks him in the eye, his mouth a determined, grim line. “I bet you wouldn’t even be able to make me come.”

“Again with the betting?” there’s a hint of mischief reflecting in Lance’s eyes, in the way the corners of his mouth twitch. “Fine. you’re on.”

Isn’t this what it’s always about? A bet, a display of dominance, a show? Both of them always trying to one-up each other, never letting go of this stupid rivalry that transformed into a full-blown grudge. Keith should know better than to engage him, to enable that. Keith _does_ know better. But he’s not a coward, and he isn’t afraid of what Lance could do to him - quite the opposite: Keith is sure anything Lance claims about his sexual - or other - 'prowess’ is a lie. Now, proving Lance to be beneath him isn’t what Keith stives for (he actually doesn’t care about Lance’s imagined rivalry. Most of the time. Sometimes. … yeah, okay, _okay_ , sometimes he does care, because - somehow - Lance manages to get under his skin with his irritating behaviour, with his _laissez-faire_ , carefree smile and talk, with that strange need to prove himself as Keith’s equal, Keith’s superior. Fun fact: Keith doesn’t even think Lance is in any way inferior to him), but if that is what Lance _wants_ , what he _needs_ , then so fucking be it. “Bet you couldn’t even make me come if your life depended on it.”

Lance leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, eyes bright with competition. “Place your bet, mullet!”

He doesn’t have to think at all: “Two weeks of cryo-cleaning duty with Coran.”

“Make it four and we have a deal. I love Coran, but cleaning and me are -” He makes a gesture, tilts his head and grimaces. “- so-so with each other.”

With Keith, it’s the other way around. he doesn’t mind cleaning. It helps him focus his energy onto one small aspect, onto something he can actually fix, unlike the greater aspects of war and peace and his own past. He doesn’t mind Coran, either, but the man is literally unable to keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes (no wonder Coran and Lance get along this well), and while Keith thinks a lot of his stories to be entertaining, he prefers his quiet most of the time. “Fine. Four.”

A handshake, firm and dry. It’s a deal, a promise. Then Lance slowly lets go of his hand and winks. “I’m gonna make you scream my name in ten minutes tops.”

“I doubt that,” Keith responds. “It wouldn’t be _your_ name anyway even if there was screaming involved. Don’t forget that.”

“You say that _now_ , but I’m just that good, man.”

“Do you actually want to do this or do you want to make me reconsider my life choices?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Lance pretends to zip his mouth shut. He’s still grinning, though.

Keith hates him for it and silently watches him pulling his shirt over his dumb, big head, before mimicing his movements, slipping out of his jacket first. It lands on the ground with a small _thud_. His shirt is next. At his pants, he hesitates, while Lance is already stripped down to his shorts. … they are doing this. It’s decided. It’s a deal - one he is not stepping back from. He isn’t a coward and he is showing Lance that his owerblown ego isn’t worth shit. Scream his name - pah!

One last deep breath, one more second, and there go his pants. They pool around his ankles and as he steps out of them, he kicks his boots off. Keith takes another deep breath and looks over to Lance (after having gathered up all the courage he can muster, for it costs him quite an effort to see Lance naked) - and frowns. Lance is still in his shorts, staring at Keith bluntly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lance answers with an air of nonchalance that sounds fake to Keith’s ears. “I just don’t wanna be the first one skinny-dipping. I was waiting for you to catch up.”

“You’re scared.”

“Am not!”

He is. They both are. It’s a little reassuring. “Okay, how about we do it on three?” That’s fine with Lance, and since it was Keith’s idea, it’s obviously fine with him, too. So it’s decided. They count. One. Keith’s hands are at his hips. Two. They hook under the waistband of his shorts. Three. He pulls them down without another thought. However, admittantly, he is glad to see that Lance does the same; everything else would have been awkward.

Now that they’re both naked, Keith’s gaze cannot help but wander over Lance’s naked frame, just as he can see Lance’s eyes travelling up and down his own body. Most things he has actually been forced to see in the pool, but now his eyes come to rest on Lance’s dick; dark and soft and with a hint of pubes. It’s … average. Thankfully. He isn’t sure a bigger one would fit inside him (he’d have to use lots and lots of prep and lube wth Shiro), but that one would be fine. It’s a start. Something to use to get the hang of the whole sex thing. Then, when he’s done with this, he can move on with his life and love and maybe with bigger dicks. Maybe he can ask Shiro for a threesome with Allura. … hmm. That’s not a bad idea, is it? Maybe that way, he could-

“You’re spacing out on me, mullet.”

Keith snaps out of his thoughts, blinking repeatedly. “… sorry.”

“Been entranced by my cock?” When Keith grimaces in disgust, Lance laughs. “I call it Lance’s lance of love.”

“You just made that up.”

A shrug. “Yeah, I did. Does it sound good? Think it’ll work on Allura?”

“Only if you want her to die of laughter.” He takes one little step towards the bed. “Move. I need to get comfortable.”

“On your stomach,” Lance tells him as he scuffles away, giving Keith enough space to first sit, then lie down on the bed and rest his head on his folded arms. “Yeah, like that. Don’t need to see your dick the whole time.”

“Funny,” Keith drawls. “I don’t wanna see your face.” He buries his nose in the pillow and sighs quietly, inhaling Lance’s smell. It’s not how he’d imagined Lance to smell like (not that he’d ever takes the time to actually do so!), not like he’d image _Shiro_ to smell like. Shiro would be - Shiro _is_ , Keith has already been able to find out, he’s alredy been close enough to almost bury his nose in the crook of Shiro’s neck; only the armor has made it impossible - herbs and spices and a bright night underneath the stars. While Lance smells like the ocean on a sunny day, like saltwater and the strange possibility of something _underneath_ , something that might overwhelm you, pull you under and drown you if you lose your guard even for one second. Keith shivers at the thought.

“You all right?”

“Sure, whatever,” he mutters. “Just get this over with. And don’t forget the damn space condoms!”

There’s a small sound as Lance fumbles with the lube and condoms. He curses slightly, mumbles something under his breath that Keith diesn’t care enough to try and find out. Then, Lance’s hands are on his skin.

Keith digs his nails into the fabric of the pillow as he feels thumbs spread his cheeks (he can, only too easily, imagine Lance’s eyes on his ass, on his hole). Suddenly, without warning, something cold dribbles onto him. Keith jumps in surprise, gritting his teeth at the sudden chill. “The hell? Can’t you warn me at least?”

“Stop complaining, it’s gonna be warm in a sec.”

He scoffs and worries his lower lip between his teeth. As a hand, large, but not as large as he’d hope for, comes to rest on his ass, he stiffens, muscles taut and toes curled. “Wait,” he manages to say between gritted teeth.

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out after all?” He can almost hear Lance roll his eyes. He chooses not to care what Lance thinks. Then, impatiently: “Come on, spill the beans. What’s wrong?”

“Can you-” He shouldn’t have said anything, should have kept his mouth shut. It’s … it’s stupid, he knows. But still … “Can you use your left?”

Lance is unusually quiet for a moment, and Keith inwardly curses himself for being so sentimental. But then Lance simply pats Keith’s ass. “Sure, whatever.”

And then, there are his fingers. Gentle, at first, rubbing over his hole, making Keith shudder and close his eyes (he counts the seconds, one, two, prepares himself for more), until they slip inside.

His breath hitches at the sudden burn of being stretched. It’s more than one, he’s sure of it. It’s too big for one (he only has his own to compare, but he knows what one finger feels like). Someone seems to be impatient …

The fingers find their way deeper inside him, up to the hilt, up until he feels Lance’s knuckles bump against his skin. Keith grits his teeth at the intrusion, forces himself to brathe in, out, slowly, steadily. Automatically, he wonders if Lance can even get it up or if he is going to stay just as flaccid as Keith is now. What is Lance even thinking of, right this instance? Keith imagines Allura’s ass, plumper and fuller than his own, imagines dark skin and breathy, high-pitched moans and gasps. He grimaces. No. No, that doesn’t help his non-existent arousal in the slightest. And then, of course, unbidden images of Lance on top of her form in his mind, of his hands on her hips, of their fingers intertwining and his head bowing down to her neck to suck and bite, leaving marks on her skin.

Keith groans at his imagination and rolls his eyes as his brain suddenly shoves Lance out and Shiro in, and _that_ is just being unfair. He really doesn’t need to imagine those two. Really. No. Just no.

The fingers pump inside him a little quicker, always stretching him wide and then almost leaving him empty again. It does nothing for him.

Keith ponders if he should tell Lance what a prostate it and how he should crook his fingers every once in a while and _maybe_ stimulate more than just the rim of his hole, his insides would like to be rubbed, too, not just poked and prodded. But then he remembers that this is supposed to be a competition, and he keeps quiet.

However … is he supposed to just lie there and think of England - so to speak? That’s out of the question. But it’s hard, so impossibly hard to think of anything arousing - mostly because he simply cannot imagine Shiro right now. Shiro would go slower, would rest his whole weight on Keith. His body pressing close to Keith’s own, his name on Shiro’s lips, gentle kisses on his nape ..

Keith shivers, fingers twitching as he thinks of Shiro holding his hands, pressing them down onto the mattress. Shiro would chuckle in his ear, a small and reassuring sound, his hot breath ghosting over Keith’s skin, tickling the back of his neck. Or maybe Keith would be on his back, arms and legs locked around Shiro’s broad body. He’d have a hand on Shiro’s back, nails scraping over Shiro’s scalp and carefully trimmed hair. He could watch him shudder, long lashes fluttering in arousal. And then Shiro would lock their lips in a kiss, or maybe Keith would crane his neck to kiss him first, eager and wanton to finally taste the person he loves.

But Lance is … not Shiro. Obviously. Not at least because he gives a shit about romance and tenderness and kissing (or - if he does - he has his own ideas about those values, ideas that include Allura. _The poor girl_ , Keith thinks), not that Keith would want him to get all lovey-dovey with him, quite the contrary, but now that they’re _here_ and _naked_ , one could assume Lance would be a little more careful with withdrawing his fingers and sticking his dick inside Keith.

Spoilers: He isn’t.

Keith hisses at the stretch, but at least Lance has been generous with the lube. Actually, he has used very, very much of it. Maybe too much, because Keith isn’t sure he’s been true to the deal and used a condom. But hey, no need to worry; if Lance hasn’t, Keith will simply rip his dick off.

He opens his mouth to tell Lance about this new and good idea, but the first slow thrust makes him gasp, and Keith decides to quickly shut his mouth - and keep it shut! - before more embarrassing noises escape his lips. Noises that might give Lance the wrong idea about this whole thing. But he has to admit - if only to himself - that it’s kinda nice. It’s the first good thing Lance has done in a while and that includes the foreplay. Every time Lance moves in him, he is stretched so much, and every time his dick brushes against his prostate, sparks of pleasure rush through his body.

 _About time_ , he thinks and sighs into the pillow, rubbing his slowly hardening dick against the sheets. He thinks of Shiro: his large body covering Keith’s own, the metal hand gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. His other hand would sneak around Keith’s waist to rub and pinch a nipple. Keith bites down on his lower lip to stifle a groan as his own fingers brush over his chest and the pink, hard nubs. He takes them between his thumbs and index fingers to tease and twist them just like Shiro would, tugging on them ever so slightly.

 _This is good! This is-_ He groans out loud as the thrusts grow more fierce, more desperate, as nails dig into the skin of his hips, leaving crescend-shaped marks. His body is pulled closer to the other one’s - to Shiro’s! -, his own dick finally hard and heavy between his legs, and maybe, _maybe_ he can come like this, with thoughts of love and lust and Shir-

-oh.

It’s over already. One last, particularly deep thrust, and Lance comes with a shout of _her_ name, nails scraping over Keiths waist and back and butt. And then he rolls off him, to the side, with the most satisfied little grin on his lips.

While Keith seriously considers stabbing him.

“So, was it as good for you as it was for me? I mean, you’re no Allura, but your ass is kinda- oh.” Lance abruptly stops, the smug smile wiped off his face as Keith rolls onto his side, presenting his deserved and very much still present boner. He eyes it wearily and with visible discomfort before tearing his gaze away. “Well, uh,” he starts. “I hope you don’t want me to do anything about that, I already did my best and I-”

“Fuck you,” Keith says. “And shut up.”

Thankfully, Lance does, closing his mouth with an audible sound.

“Fuck you,” Keith repeats as he puts a hand around his dick, feeling the thick veins, the hard flesh underneath his fingertips. He strokes himself once, twice, trying to find a good rhythm while never breaking eye contact. He deserves this. He deserves a good orgasm, he has worked for it. “I hope you know I’ve won.”

“I … ” Lance’s gaze flickers from his face to his dick and back, and he backs off a little. Just too bad he already has his back against the wall, so he can’t just get up and run away. “Yeah. I get it. It’s fine. Cleaning duty. Yay. Just- can you just … not do that in front of me? That’s a little gay.”

Keith actually laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his body as his dick twitches a little in his hand. “As if you having your dick up my ass wasn’t.” He is close, at least closer than a few minutes ago. The sex hasn’t been that bad, just embarrassing for Lance and his stamina; Keith has managed to prove a point, and now all that’s missing is _this_.

His hand moves quicker and he pulls his foreskin back to rub the tip of his cock with his fingers, to directly tease the slit with a thumb. Keith shudders, his eyes almost closing, breath getting faster. He still looks at Lance, at that horrified face. And moans Shiro’s name as he comes in long, white streaks all over his hand and the sheets.

“Dude, gross! You jizzed in my bed!”

“You’ll live,” he anwers, voice still trembling in the afterglow as he stretches his long limbs and makes a move to climb out of the bed, pulling a face at the sting in his backside. Lance will live, and Keith will live, too, even with that bit of pain. He’s proven a point. And they are not doing this again, that much is clear. Keith gathers up his clothes and gets dressed while Lance is still huddled against the wall as if he’s scared to touch Keith’s come with any part of his body.

“Enjoy cleaning duty,” he says as he opens the door, as he looks over his shoulder one last time. What he sees makes him grin.

Because Lance is hard again, dick heavy on his stomach, wrapped in a stupidly bright condom.

 _Well, isn’t that interesting,_ he thinks.

And closes the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Was planned for klangst-week‘s Day One: Unrequited Love/Unrequited Pining. Also on [Tumblr](http://darkestquasar.tumblr.com/post/159270629600/fake-it-like-you-love-me)


End file.
